


the fuzziest of woodland creatures

by bowlingfornerds



Series: favourite fics [15]
Category: The 100
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, cop!bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5963116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowlingfornerds/pseuds/bowlingfornerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“it’s 2 in the morning and i was just trying to get home but i left my sunroof open all day and now there’s a squirrel in my car and it scared me and i drove into a pole – would you please stop laughing you’re a cop. you’re supposed to be helping”</p><p>Exactly what it says on the tin, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the fuzziest of woodland creatures

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a rough few days, so why not lift my spirits with some fluff? Maybe yours while I'm at it, too.  
> Not edited or beta-ed, there's probably mistakes, I only wrote it and then half-heartedly read it through before posting.

Clarke clambers into her car, groaning as she hits her head on the door frame and presses a cold hand to her forehead, slumping into her seat.

“Fuck,” she breathes, shutting the door behind her. She slouches in the car seat for a moment, the ceiling light illuminating the inside of the car and making everything else outside darker than it already was. Clarke hadn’t meant to stay until two AM at work, finishing off her proposal so she could present it today at three – but she knew it wouldn’t get done if she left it for the morning.

The light slowly dims and Clarke’s eyes adjust; little red lights on the dashboard in front of her, and street lamps glowing in the night. After rubbing her head a little longer, Clarke fixes the keys into the ignition and turns them. Her car thrums to life and she takes a breath, glancing about.

She pulls out onto the empty street and drives, her eyes ready to close and her limbs achy. Clarke feels a breeze on the back of her neck; notices her hair (taken down from her professional bun a few hours before) drifting gently. She glances up, slowing the car slightly, and groans aloud as she sees the sunroof, wide open.

“Why,” she sighs, looking back to the road and holding a hand up to the ceiling. Clarke pushes the button towards the front window, and the roof slowly slides shut. A moment later, the covering slides over, too, so the ceiling looks less like glass, and more like a regular ceiling. She notices how cold the car is, then, and swears at herself for leaving the sunroof open for so long.

Barely glancing away from the road ahead of her, she reaches down and turns on the seat warmers, immediately feeling heat spread across her back. Clarke sighs into it, and leans back a little as she drives. There’s absolutely no one on the roads, and the red lights she stops at are for no purpose other than to give her time to switch radio stations and choose a song to fill her speakers. It’s a slow one that comes on – if she knew the name she would search it later, because the music is atmospheric, gentle, beautiful, and Clarke almost regrets turning it on because her eyes are shutting that much quicker.

But her apartment isn’t too far away, and Clarke knows she can make it there before she falls asleep behind the wheel. She’s done the two AM drive home many times, from strangers’ homes, from bars, from work, too. Clarke knows how long she can hold out – and it’s longer than this.

It becomes even longer when she hears a slight squeak and Clarke stiffens. She can’t tell what it is, but it feels out of place with the music.

Then, something jumps out – it’s small, brown, a blur and Clarke screams. She slams on the breaks at the same time as she swerves and her eyes clamp shut as the sound of metal on metal scratches through the car. She jerks forwards and then back into her seat, coughing and groaning.

Her eyes open again though, looking for the blur, and the second she lays her eyes on it, Clarke’s scrambling out of the car. She opens the door and pushes her way out, only to fall back into the seat again; still strapped in. Clarke clicks the seat belt open, jumping out of the car and slamming the door behind her. She stands, frozen, in the road for a moment, before moving closer to the car.

Clarke peers through the window carefully, and groans at the sight.

“Fucking hell,” she grouses, straightening. She really _does not_ need to find a squirrel in her car at two AM. She groans aloud, looking up to the darkened night sky for a moment, wishing to be as far away as the stars are, so she doesn’t have to deal with this. But, when she opens her eyes and looks back to the car, there’s still a squirrel inside, and the front of her car is embedded in a pole.

Clarke goes over the damage for a moment, finding the bumper half off, and the light smashed. The pole is leaning precariously and Clarke moves away from the car as she pulls out her phone. She’s not exactly sure who to call – maybe a mechanic? Triple A? Clarke settles on the police, so they can be aware that there’s a busted lamp post and a wrecked car at the side of the road.

“Emergency services, how many I direct your call?” She hears on the other end. It’s a particularly nasal voice but Clarke doesn’t focus on that, just says she’d like to talk to the police. She’s put through a moment later and relays the details.

“Hi, yes, I drove my car into a lamp post?”

The police arrive about twenty minutes later. After explaining that she has no injuries – she went to Med school for two years, so Clarke’s pretty sure she’d know – and actually _not_ saying why she drove into a lamp post, they agreed to dispatch a car. It pulls up on the other side of the road, and a uniform-clad man steps out, running a hand through his messy dark hair. She assumes, considering it’s half two in the morning, that he’s as tired as she is, and Clarke hopes this can be cleared up quickly.

“My name’s Officer Blake,” he introduces, after crossing the road to her. Clarke shakes his hand with a weary smile.

“Clarke Griffin,” she replies. He nods, dropping her hand and looking over to the car. She takes a moment to study him before she does, too. He’s young – definitely not over twenty eight, she decides – with dark tousled hair and brown eyes. His skin is a shade of brown that reminds her of caramel, and his cheeks are dotted with freckles. He is, by all intents and purposes, very attractive. He’s also staring at her car with an unamused expression.

“I would ask what happened here,” he starts. “But I think it’s quite clear to see that you drove into a pole.” Clarke snorts, glancing over to her car. It’s only six months old, and she’s pretty annoyed to have ruined it so quickly. “I’m going to have to use the breathalyser,” he continues. “Just to check.” She nods.

“I’m not drunk, so feel free.”

“Then how did this happen?” He asks. Clarke’s sure that her face heats up. She’s almost one hundred percent definite. She avoids his eyes, while refusing to look into the car – she knows what she’ll find there.

“Well,” she starts, before trailing off. She coughs, glancing around and hoping for a distraction – but, well, it’s two thirty AM and no one’s around. She looks back to the officer, finding him waiting with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” Clarke sighs, rubbing a hand across her face.

“I left my sunroof open all day,” she tells him. “I didn’t know a squirrel got into my car.” Officer Blake stares at her in silence for a moment, before laughing. It’s not just a chuckle, or quiet, or short-lived – no, this is full, grinning, clutching his stomach laughing.

“There’s a squirrel…” he coughs, straightening, still chuckling. “There’s a squirrel in your _car._ ” Clarke nods, looking away.

“Yeah,” she replies, crossing her arms. Officer Blake laughs for a little longer, shaking his head. “Oh come on,” she grouses. “Stop laughing.” This makes him start up again and Clarke groans loudly. “You’re a _cop_ ,” she complains. “You’re supposed to be helping.”

“There’s – there’s nothing I can _help_ with here. There’s a squirrel in your car, ma’am – that’s not my area.”

“Well you can’t just _leave it there,_ ” she retorts. Officer Blake nods for a moment, holding up a hand so he can get his breath back. After a moment, he steels his expression.

“Right,” he announces. “We can try getting _it_ out of your car.”

“You can’t even say it, can you?” Clarke asks dryly. Officer Blake cracks a smile, shaking his head.

“Not at all – we could try opening the door? It’ll leave in its own time?” Clarke sighs, nodding.

“Sure, fine.” She watches as Officer Blake leans forward, carefully opening the driver’s side door. They both step back then. They wait for a moment, but nothing happens, and Officer Blake steps back over to the car, peering in.

“There’s nothing in here,” he tells her. “Are you sure you saw a squirrel?” Clarke pauses, before joining him at the car door.

“Of course I did,” she replies indignantly. “I wouldn’t run into a lamp post if I _hadn’t_ seen a squirrel.”

“Did you know it was a squirrel at the time?” He asks, and it sounds more out of interest than anything. Clarke raises an eyebrow but shakes her head reluctantly.

“Not at the time – but I know _now._ ”

“Are you sure?” He asks again. “Because I’m not seeing anything in here.” Clarke huffs, and the two lean a little further into the car. Of course that’s the moment that the squirrel decides to make its escape.

Both of them jump back, afraid, screaming a little, as a small bundle of fur leaps out from the car. It scampers along the road and the two watch, open fear and amazement across their features, as it stops for just a moment, looking back, before it scurries away into the darkness.

There’s silence after that. The two of them stand, in open horror, Clarke pressed against the side of the car, and Officer Blake against the inside of the door. Slowly, after a little while has passed, they breathe again, moving away from the car.

“I told you there was a squirrel in my car,” Clarke says quietly. Officer Blake isn’t laughing, just staring at her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he replied. “There really was a squirrel in your car.” That’s all it takes for them to turn to side-splitting laughter; stomach-aching, tears-spilling until it’s just silent and they’re just grinning, flushed and clapping a little to get it out.

It takes a while for them to calm down, but when they do, Clarke takes a few deep breaths.

“I’m going to need a drink after this,” she tells him. Officer Blake nods.

“I agree – there’s a bar just around the corner from here, if you’re interested?” She pauses for a second, before smiling and nodding. She may have a proposal due at work that afternoon, but she’s had a hell of a night and, frankly, she _deserves_ to get a drink with an attractive cop.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Clarke asks. Officer Blake shrugs.

“You were my last call of the night. I’ll just radio this in,” he nods to the lamp post. “And we’ll go and get a drink.” They smile at each other, and Clarke likes his smile – the way only a slither of his teeth can be seen, but it’s all in the eyes.

“Sounds like a plan, Officer Blake,” she replies.

“Bellamy,” he corrects. She raises her eyebrows. “Call me Bellamy.” Clarke nods.

“Bellamy,” she tests. It rolls off of her tongue and tastes like sugar. “Sounds like a plan.” She watches as he wanders back over to his squad car, to radio in the damage, and Clarke turns back to her car. She swings the driver-side door shut and jumps back, as the lamp post squeals, falling straight down into her car. The window shatters and Clarke stares in horror, at the pole, completely crushing the centre of her car. _It’s only six months old._

“Can you call that in, too?” She asks over her shoulder. Clarke’s doesn’t look away from her wreck of her car, and just focuses on how much she’s going to drink.

“Will do,” Bellamy replies, and he sounds as done as she is.

At least he’s a good drinking partner, and later, a very good boyfriend.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos & comments are loved and appreciated, thank you very much.


End file.
